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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29751828">your friend, the englishman</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:42:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,565</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29751828</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>... or maybe not.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>your friend, the englishman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sujani opened the curtains, letting the summer sun pour into the theatre. She stretched, walked up and around the auditorium, through the rows of seats, around the sound and light booth, and back to the stage. Hoisting herself onto the apron, she began a day in the life of a familiar. She organized the props, cleaned up some dust and wood shavings, took out the trash. As she flung the stagedoor open, carrying a black garbage bag in one hand and her breakfast apple in another, she almost missed the note on the door. Crunching her apple and setting the bag down on the creaking steps, she held the sticky note to the morning light.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Quellenstrasse, 11 AM. Let’s talk.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Your friend,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Englishman</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Well, it appeared the young lackey had caught onto his nickname. After all, Pasha had come to Sujani a day or two ago, raving mad about the strange Englishman he had met. The name had come into Edel’s vocabulary after his third appearence, and Mia, who had coined the moniker, was proud of her little creation.</p><p> </p><p>Even if the creation carried stakes, crucifixes, and a seemingly senseless murderous intent to destroy all vampires. Hadn’t gone through with it yet, sure. But even amateurs can learn quick.</p><p> </p><p>Sujani took another bite out of her apple and checked her watch, noting the 8’o’clock designation. She swung the bag of garbage over her back, crunched the note in her hand, and threw it out along with the garbage.</p><p> </p><p>When she returned back into the theatre, she made sure the door was firmly locked shut, putting a chair beneath the doorknob for good measure.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Quellenstrasse was only a few blocks from the theatre, sandwiched in between two paved roads and serving as a passage for foot travel. Sujani’s black skirt rippled in the breeze and she tugged her cardigan around her. She had also made sure to adorn a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses, keen on telling the filthy murderer that she could pull off the look much better than he could ever dream of.</p><p> </p><p>And, just as he promised, and somewhat to Sujani’s surprise, he was there. He leaned against a whitewashed wall, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses and his shock of dark hair tucked into a sunhat. Only this time, a smoldering cigarette was anchored between his lips and he was wearing a rather inconspicious Hawaiian shirt, bright blue and vibrant against Zurich’s presumptious pastels. He recognized her instantly, and a smile flickered across his face. He spat out his cigarette, crushed it under his boot, and places his hands behind his back as he approached her. “I didn’t expect you to come,” he said bluntly.</p><p> </p><p>The heart-shaped sunglasses slid down the bridge of her nose, and she stared blankly at him. “If anything happens to them while I’m gone, I’ll sever your cretin head from your body,” she said with joviality. “Coffee?” she added brightly, holding up some crumpled Francs. </p><p> </p><p>The Englishman rubbed his mouth and nodded, hesitating a moment as she led him out into the busy center streets. She slipped into some well-to-do shop, ordering herself a tea and him a coffee, not bothering to ask what he wanted. He grumbled as he sat across from her in a booth, the sunlight hitting his face and illuminating those hollow green eyes. Sujani held the cup to her lips and stared at him with ambigious intent. “Something wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t like coffee,” he said.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you shouldn’t have agreed to coffee then, hm?”</p><p> </p><p>“So you’re one of those people who takes everything literally, I suppose.”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” she replied, taking a sip from her glass and eyeing his untouched cup of coffee. “I aimed to bother you.”</p><p> </p><p>He shrugged at that and started to outline the rim of the cup with his finger, the glass making a faint whistle. </p><p> </p><p>“How’d you know?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Know what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Your nickname.”</p><p> </p><p>He paused. “The Englishman? That’s official now?”</p><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t before?”</p><p> </p><p>“The wee one,” he paused to chuckle, “he dubbed me so. I didn’t know you lot were really using it.” Sujani was silent, and a ironic grin crossed his face. “I’m not English, either.”</p><p> </p><p>She seemed to ignore him, taking another sip of her tea, so he continued. “I’m Irish.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, you want to be the Irishman then?” She searched in her German vocabulary for a while. “<em>Irländer</em>.” He made a face, and Sujani set the cup down and smiled at him, ironic. “Actually,” she began. “One of my colleagues spotted you some weeks before. Dubbed you the <em>Engländer</em>. Englishman. You see, when in Zurich, you often see out-of-their-mind tourists dressed in the gaudiest clothes imaginable hail from Britain.” She took her time surveying him up and down with a cocked eyebrow. “You just so happened to fit the profile.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you?” he asked. “You’re a fish out of water yourself. American, firstly, secondly, dressed like a walking lime.”</p><p> </p><p>“I came here 6 years ago. I know this place much better than you could dream of ever knowing it,” Sujani laughed at his words and crossed her legs. “No, I’m much more familiar than you’ll ever be.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why’s that?” He lifted up the coffee with a hesitant hand and smell-tested the cup, as if Sujani had slipped poison in.</p><p> </p><p>“When Edel kills you, you will never be able to know Zürich,” she remarked. </p><p> </p><p>He rolled his eyes and took a sip of the coffee before gagging. “That’s terrible.”</p><p> </p><p>“You might try it with some sugar or cream,” Sujani offered, rubbing her forehead. It was at this moment the sunlight caught a golden band on his ring finger, and Sujani pouted. “You’re married?”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes darted to the ring and he set his hand down, staring into his coffee cup with an expressionless look. He said nothing, and Sujani crossed her legs.  </p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” she said, swatting the topic away. “Listen. I see that you want to concern yourself with us. That is unnecessary. They are not hurting anyone. Let them live. I don’t know what score you’re trying to settle, but,” she paused and took off her sunglasses, meeting his obscured eyes. “It’s not really worth getting yourself killed. I promise you. You ought to leave.”</p><p> </p><p>He debated her words for a second, responding with a momentary shift in his blank stare. Then, he removed his sunglasses and met her gaze. Yes, seemed like an Irishman, now that she saw his upper nose and cheeks, sprinkled with childlike freckles, and those green eyes. Handsome, but hollow. He drew his thumb over his lips in thought and then got to his feet. “I should be going.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, wait,” Sujani’s voice went cold, and she met his gaze, compelling him to sit back down in his chair, hands clenched on his knees. “You’re playing with fire.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Please,” Sujani rolled her eyes and the empty teacup in her hand. “You know exactly what I mean. You foolish little man, roaming into a den full of bloodthirsty vampires, with the confidence of a full-blooded Van Helsing.” At the mention name, his gaze fled to the floor, but Sujani continued, slamming her finger down on the table. “I see them murder people every day, you know that? Other living, breathing, human beings. If I can turn you away from this lifestyle and get you to simply back off, then it will be worth it. Preserve your life. You are married, are you not? Look at you. Young. You don’t need to waste your life for this losing game.”</p><p> </p><p>The Englishman glowered and picked up his shades. “You’ll never understand.” Then, in a declaration of the conversation’s closure, he stood up and stormed out without so much as looking back. Well, while it may be Swiss ettiquite to clean up after yourself, Sujani didn’t waste a moment before bolting out the door and after him.</p><p> </p><p>He must have heard her angry whirl of footsteps because he turned around, watching as she pursued him. “This is a death wish,” she hissed. “Do not kill yourself doing this. See a therapist instead. Are you a mercenary? What is this for?”</p><p> </p><p>With a curt laugh, he turned around again, hands behind his back and a crucifix dangling from them. “You’ll never understand,” he repeated, almost sing-song. “Stop trying. It’s over. I won’t hurt you,” his voice transitioned into a snarl as he faced her once again, “but I will not rest until I’ve eliminated every single one of them from the face of this continent.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine! Fine,” she snapped back, grabbing his arm and wrenching him into one of the alleys. “But I’m sworn to protect them, to protect the theatre, and I am willing to do so at the cost of my own life.” It was at this point Sujani’s height served as an advantage, for she towered over him and was able to grab him firmly by the collar as she spoke. “I will not hesitate to kill you myself if you dare lay a finger on them.”</p><p> </p><p>Motionless and expressionless as she released him with a shove, he scampered off as she backed away, out into the summer and cobblestone streets, the sounds of the river in the distance. He disappeared as mysteriously arrived, his gaudy costume vanishing into the alleyways.</p><p> </p><p>Sujani turned to the sun, letting the warmth touch her face, and started back towards the Theatre.</p><p> </p>
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